todays poem is from September 92. sort of on subject for the local weather lately.
not much - other than loads of overtime - going on. it'll be a bit before i get a day (or night) off at the papermill. most likely 6 days or so. thus, another gap in the posts will occur.
WAITING FOR A RETURN PHONE CALL BJS
1 i wait. mist gathers in dark valleys, as if smoke from the pyres of dreams unobtained.
2 i wait. rain whispers poetry in a language i cannot translate. i wash my face in the thick water. no magic exude.
3 i wait. somewhere you walk beneath rainbows. dance under warm skies as if an elfin dream.
4 i wait. decades amass. continents are born & die. we converse in languages that have no syllables.
the poetry and rambling thoughts of a working class poet
